The Straight Answer
by Indiana Beach Bum
Summary: Courtesy of BroflovskiFan and IBB. A traumatizing incident leaves Kyle in a heap of trouble AND desperate for a change. But that won't be so easy with a super best friend like Stan Marsh. [genfic]


Just something BroflovskiFan and I cranked out for a few days, based on some really random but hilarious ideas. Have fun reading, cause we sure had fun writing!

**The Straight Answer**

"Which one do you like better?" Stan asked, holding up a picture of two noses.

Kyle furrowed his brow. "Stan, I really don't see how changing my appearance-"

"If you're going to play the part of someone else, you CAN'T have that big 'ole thing standing in your way!" Stan touched the tip of his finger to the tip of Kyle's nose, to which Kyle met with an empty, annoyed stare.

"It's not _that_ big!" he protested, narrowing his eyes at his super best friend. Kyle was very sensitive when it came to his nose.

"Sure. And neither is Jay Leno's chin!"

Kyle pouted at this, and Stan immediately felt a little bit bad. "Come on Kyle, I'm just joking. I like your nose. It makes you look…distinguished."

Kyle sensed there was more to that statement. Stan was holding in his breath, paused for further speech. "Buuut?" Kyle instigated him.

Stan looked at the pictures. "But a distinguished nose will make you very easy to spot. You don't want that, do ya?"

Kyle sighed, to which Stan raised the pictures right up to his face again, grinning behind them. "SO WHICH ONE?" he asked, shaking HIS preference.

Kyle shook his head. "I don't know dude. I kind of like my nose, and if I get plastic surgery, then I'll never be able to get it back."

"But Kyllle!" Stan protested, determined to make his friend see his point. "Jew noses are trouble! He'll be able to see you a mile away with that shnozz!"

Kyle folded his arms, defiant. "I like my nose, and I'm keeping it."

Stan shook his head. "Oookay, but don't come crying to me when your BIG nose interferes with your hair's perfect existence," he stated sarcastically.

"I thought you said it was DISTINGUISHED!" Kyle whined.

"Distinguishably big," Stan muttered. "NOW! How about a new name? I like Ballbusterowski," he mused. Funny thing was, he was being semi-serious.

Kyle made a face. "No good."

"Picky picky. How about Pillowbiterstein?"

Kyle laughed. "Where the hell did you come up with that?"

"Fudgepackerschwartz?"

"Stan, be serious."

Stan frowned. "I am!" He protested. "Look, Kyle, if you're planning on keeping that honker of a nose, you HAVE to have a Jewish name. It's only fair. And everyone knows that all Jewish names end in either -ski -stein, or schwartz. It's like, a law, or something," he explained to a bemused Kyle.

"Really now?" Kyle asked his friend, raising an eyebrow.

"You can't deny it," Stan announced triumphantly, folding his arms.

"What about Horwitz?"

Stan contemplated this for a moment. "Every rule has an exception. Plus, Buttpiratehorwitz works too. I rest my case."

Kyle made a face. "That is WAY too many syllables. I don't think it's even a last name, Stan!"

"Assrammerstein?"

"Sounds like a video game."

Stan sighed, frustrated. "Tell me again WHY you have to go into the witness protection program?"

A pained look spread across Kyle's face as he recalled the incidents of merely a few days before. He had tried to block all thoughts of it from his head, but seeing as the memories still haunted his dreams, Kyle couldn't see that happening anytime soon. Kyle forced himself to relax and took a deep breath.

A hand waving in front of his face caught his attention. "Kyle?" Stan asked, concerned. "You okay?"

Kyle closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Carefully, he opened them again, staring at his super best friend. "It was a day not unlike today," he began in dramatic fashion. Very unlike Kyle. "I had just entered the old gas station on the west side of town. I didn't figure anyone else would be there. It's far away from everything else and plus, it was just really, really early."

Stan looked on in intrigue.

Kyle continued. "I, in all my innocence, had just popped in for a Coke and some -"

Stan interrupted him. "Kyle, what have I told you about drinking Coke?"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "That's why insulin was invented, dumbass."

"Still, you shouldn't be drinking that stuff."

"Sorry mom."

"Well somebody's got to watch out for your health-"

"I HAVE a somebody that does that already. I'm covered."

Stan growled, sounding more like a tiny lion cub than anything intimidating. "ANYWAY," he prompted.

"Anyways," Kyle repeated, "- I was just going in to get some Coke and chips, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw another person enter. He was wearing a leather jacket, the words on it terrifying to the beholder."

"What'd it say?" Stan asked, even though he'd already heard the story.

"Demon Bunnies from Hell."

At this, Stan shuddered. "Bunnies are creepy," he agreed. "The way they just hop around with their big ears and puffball tails. Those puffballs are SCARY, dude. I wouldn't want to mess with one."

"Yeah. So this lunatic with a demonic rabbit saying was all "I need a pack of smokes," and when the guy at the counter turned around, that's when IT happened.

"Before I even had time to react, the man had reached over and klonked the poor attendant on the head, knocking him out quite effectively. He then ran over to the freezer, grabbed as many bagel bites as he could, and darted back to the door. Just as he was about to leave, the man turned around and gave me the most chilling look I've ever been subject to my entire life. His final words to me dripped poison."

"WHAT'D HE SAY?" Stan squealed like a curious little boy. He already knew what came next from hearing it, several times in fact, but Kyle was just so darn good at telling it, he got all into it every time.

"He said," and Kyle lowered his voice to imitate the man, "don't tell a soul if you want to keep that poof hair of yours."

Stan's mouth dropped several feet. "Holy shit dude!" He exclaimed. "So what did you do?"

"Well, the second he left, I panicked, so I ran as fast as I could away from the station and into the forest for safety. Once there, I made sure my hair was still intact, and forced myself to calm down."

Stan smirked at his best friend. "You cried, didn't you?"

Kyle's eyes widened then narrowed. He crossed his arms. "Nuh uh."

Stan shook his head. "Yes huh. You cried. Remember? I saw you later on that day and you said you'd accidentally wondered into an onion patch. That's why your eyes were all swollen. 'Member?"

Kyle cursed a few words inaudibly. "Stan," he shifted focus, "He's coming after me. He's in my dreams. The bagels come to LIFE!" He buried his face in his hands. "I can't go on like this."

Stan, rather than fill his urge to comfort his friend, decided to humiliate him further. "The bagels come to LIFE? You are such a fag, dude."

Kyle glared at his friend, cheeks burning bright red. He sought revenge, the sort of which had to be deployed in just the right way...

"Snake," Kyle mentioned casually, gesturing to the ground beside Stan's foot.

Of course, Stan's face contorted to a terrified frozen state. He turned as white as the sheet in less than one second before screaming, "_WHAT_!", and bringing his feet up to the bed, jumping on it, and huddling into the corner. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" he shrieked at higher volumes than the ears could take.

Kyle grinned in satisfaction.

Stan, upon seeing Kyle's smirk, realized that he had been played. A quick glance to the floor further proved that. Stan Marsh had been played BADLY.

"I hate you so much," Stan uttered through clenched teeth.

Kyle giggled uproariously. As Stan fell back on the bed, extremely unsettled, Kyle leaned his head on Stan's shoulder, mocking what Stan had called him earlier. "You love me," he teased.

Stan shrugged his shoulder to pry Kyle off, making sure he sat as far away from his trickster friend as possible. "So, Kyle, how are you going to hide from the guy with that MONSTER of a nose and your already noticed Jew crazyhair?"

Kyle sighed again, blowing a lock of hair - wait, no, frizz - out of his face. "Iunno," he said, sounding defeated. "A wig perhaps?"

Stan rolled his eyes. "What sort of wig would fit over that mess of hair?"

Kyle pondered this for a moment. "My old hat would."

"Kyle, that hat stopped fitting you years ago. Plus everything knows that hat is a distinguishing mark of yours."

"Maybe I could find another one of a different color..."

"And it's way too Jewish," Stan complained, acting as though Kyle HADN'T switched the subject.

Kyle eyed him, infuriated. "What is this, Jewish Stereotypes 101?"

Stan shrunk back in his corner a bit. "I'm just sayin' you need to think about these things."

"I have been!" Kyle complained, pinching the bridge of his nose, a habit coined from his super best friend. "I've been thinking about it all night and day for the past three days, and I feel like I'm GOING INSANE!" He buried his face in his hands, drawing his legs up around him. "This is just so ... exasperating! I feel like ... like..."

"A Jew in the holocaust?" Stan filled in, absentmindedly. Realizing what he had just said, he clapped his hands over his mouth.

"FUCK YOU, FATASS!" Kyle retorted automatically. When he realized _who_ had said it, he grew even angrier. "Go home, Stan," he muttered, trying his best to conceal his emotion.

Stan paused thought to quickly rectify the situation. "Sorry, dude, that's just what it sounds like to me. Which is why you shouldn't give in! Don't let this asshole scare you."

"Go home."

Stan, hurt, could only think of one other alternative. He walked around Kyle's huddled body, and wrapped him in a tight man-hug. "Don't be mad at me dude," he said solemnly. "It was an accident. I didn't mean it, you know that." Stan buried his face into Kyle's neck, determined to make his friend forgive him.

Kyle, as much as he hated to admit, could already feel his anger subsiding. Something about Stan's demeanor brought smiles to his eyes, and he instantly felt better. But, he still wanted to act pissed off. "Get off me, gay wad," he said with pseudo-disgust.

Stan smiled and pulled away.

Kyle pretending he was dripping wet and shook himself off. "Gross, I've got your fag germs all over me."

Stan pretended to be offended. "Hey! That was a very manly hug!"

Kyle snorted. "Manly like Liberace."

"Hey!"

"Manly like Michelangelo."

"Fuck you!"

Kyle chuckled. "You'd like that too much."

Stan grumbled and walked away, his back facing his friend. "Let's just get back to work."

"Okay," Kyle agreed. "So what's next?"

Stan took a look at his notes. "You need a ... new personality."

"New how?"

Stan shrugged. "You know, like instead of having anger management issues-"

"Hey!"

"What dude? Don't look so surprised, everyone knows who Kyle Broflovski is just by describing your temper."

Kyle snorted. "Aren't you exaggerating things a bit?"

Stan glared at his friend. "Kyle you're the only guy in town who's face can get as red as his hair at the possibility of something not going his way."

Kyle rolled his eyes, obviously frustrated with his friend but not about to prove Stan right. "Whatever. So I'll be this calm hippie person who goes around smiling at everyone and telling them that God loves them."

Stan groaned. "Too extreme dude."

"Well what do YOU propose, Stan?" Kyle asked frustratingly, afraid that they were running low on options. There weren't too many roles a redheaded Jewish boy with an Afro could assume.

"You could be gay," Stan mused.

Kyle's face whitened as his face contorted in disgust. "EW! What the hell is wrong with you Stan?"

"There's nothing wrong with homosexuality Kyle," Stan responded, smiling sweetly.

"Dude, if you're feeling confused, that's fine and all, but please don't drag me into this!"

"I'm not feeling confused!" Stan cried out, flustered. "Look, dude, I'm just trying to help." He walked over to Kyle, eyeing his apparel thoughtfully.

Kyle eyed him back, suspiciously.

"I really think you have something here. You could totally pull off the rainbow child." Stan continued to size up Kyle's clothes, taking in every flamboyant color and thread.

"What? So you're saying I dress gay now?" Kyle said with a hysterical edge to his voice. "Tell me how I dress gay, and I'll burn all my clothes and buy new ones!"

"You'd like that, a whole new wardrobe," Stan mused. "A trip to the mall perhaps?"

"Shopping's your thing. Not mine," Kyle pointed out.

Stan frowned. "Well something needs to be done. Some shades could cover that mountain on your face too."

"OKAY ENOUGH!" Kyle screamed, his patience wearing thin. "I've HAD it with your bashing! You've been an asshole to me all day long, Stan. What is up?"

Stan sighed. "Nothing's wrong Kyle, I-"

"Don't give me that. What? Are you pissed that I get to start a new life and you don't?"

"No."

"Then what the FUCK is your problem?"

Stan shrugged uncomfortably. "Remember when this all happened, and you ran away into the forest by Stark's Pond for a week?"

Kyle snorted. "Until that bastard Barbrady found me out and made me come back? How could I forget?"

Stan pouted. "I thought someone had killed you or you'd run away without telling me or something."

"No, dude, I was hiding," Kyle reasoned.

"I know," Stan said quietly, shuffling his feet at the shaggy carpet. "It just made me think, ya know?"

Kyle was clueless to what Stan was trying to say. "...About?"

Stan shifted awkwardly, focusing his eyes on the ground. "Just... like if you ever left for good, you know? And now... you are. You ARE leaving for good, and it's gay that I can't do anything about it."

Kyle's frustrated gaze turned to sympathy. He put a hand on his best friend's shoulder. "Stan... it's not forever..."

Stan frowned and stuck out his bottom lip. "It's long enough. Days are boring without you here, Kyle."

Kyle smiled faintly. "I'll be back as soon as I can insure my hair." He turned serious. "I'm looking into that RIGHT away. The lawyer said it MIGHT be a possibility..."

Stan weakly returned the smile. "It won't be the same. You won't be Kyle-down-the-street from me."

Kyle sighed, rubbing his head. "No, I won't. But there's not really anything we can do about it, so..." he trailed off.

Stan smiled lightly, recollecting an old memory. "Remember a few years ago, when your mom made you go to that Hebrew Bible School?"

Kyle groaned. "Don't remind me. It was one of the worst memories of my entire life."

"It couldn't have been as bad as the Catholic Youth Group karaoke night my mother forced me into, where we were forced to sing Creed songs…repeatedly." Stan shuddered at the mere remembrance.

"You poor thing!" Kyle exclaimed, placing a sympathetic hand on Stan's shoulder.

The two boys passed a moment of silence for those evil memories.

Stan was the first to break it, getting back to his point. "Dude, the week you were gone was torture for me."

"I remember; you practically jumped me the day I got back."

Stan smirked. "If I remember it correctly, it was YOU who jumped ME." His grin subsided. "That was only a week, Ky. A WEEK. This will be much longer."

"Stan, I can't stay here. That would defeat the purpose of the relocation program," Kyle explained, his eyes filling up slowly with tears. Manly hidden tears.

"Why do you have to relocate? Why can't we just find this guy and TP his house or something?" Stan knew how very seriously TPing was taken in South Park. Kyle's assailant might be scared away from ever carrying out his threats.

Kyle sighed again. "I wouldn't even know where to begin. I don't know this guy's name or anything; he may not even be from South Park. All I know is that he looked fucking creepy in that jacket."

"Couldn't you just... shave your head or something though?" Stan pleaded desperately.

Kyle looked into Stan's eyes. "...You could come with me..." he voiced, just above a whisper.

Stan chuckled. "Isn't that a bit GAY, Kyle?" He lightly shoved his friend playfully. "'Sides, I've got stuff to do here." He too was feeling the manly tears forming. They were the kind that never showed. They just stung the eye.

"Maybe I can find some kind of protectant sealant for it," Kyle thought aloud, touching his poofy tresses.

"Hair grows back Kyle," Stan continued, ignoring his friends' previous comments. "And is keeping your hair really more important than your best friend?"

Kyle groaned, turning away from Stan. "Dude, don't do this."

"Girls like bald guys," Stan continued, turning Kyle towards his mirror. He attempted to cover up the majority of Kyle's 'fro with his hands. "They think they're cute or some shit like that."

"I don't want a girl like that," Kyle huffed. "Girls that dig bald heads are scary."

Stan nodded in agreement. "Then we can just tame it. Maybe give you a buzz-cut?" He tried to visualize the fro being tamed and fell into a fit of laughter.

"What are you laughing at?" Kyle growled. Stan's mood swings fluctuated more than a pregnant woman watching a romantic comedy.

Stan laughed, then choked, wiping a tear from his eye. "Oh shit," he wheezed. "Just... you... hair... short," he gasped out, falling onto the floor laughing.

Kyle stared down at his friend, bemused. After a few moments of this behavior, Kyle became annoyed and gave Stan a light kick to the ribs.

"Ow, dude!" He complained, rubbing his side.

"I just saved your life," Kyle noted. "Thank me?"

"What, thank you?" Stan asked, bewildered.

"Another few minutes like that and you would have given yourself an asthma attack."

"I'm not thanking you for kicking me!"

"Well, you're welcome."

"But-"

Kyle extended a hand for Stan to reach. "Get up dude, we've still got a lot to do."

Stan accepted Kyle's hand and without effort, Kyle popped him up off the ground. Stan dusted his backside. "It's pointless to try to change you, Ky," he finally said, gazing at his best friend.

"Aw, see now that's really sweet," Kyle said, more amused than anything else.

"Shut up," Stan growled. "What I meant is that you're too damn stubborn to be able to change ANYTHING about you, you keep shooting all my ideas down."

"Well maybe if they didn't suck so much-"

"You suck," Stan mumbled, clearly delivering the best comeback.

Kyle snorted. "Stan," he sighed. "Why can't you just accept that it's going to happen? I'm GOING to move? I HAVE to. I have no choice. So, you can either accept it and help me start packing and come up with a decent last name, or you can bail."

Stan gritted his teeth. "You can't do this. I'm protesting."

Kyle sighed even louder. "Stan, you've BEEN protesting. All day. I'm tired, let's just get on with it and help me start packing already!"

Stan crossed his arms like a child. "No."

Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to let his temper get the best of him. "Whatever," he finally said, crossing the room to finish packing up his stuff.

Stan was quick like lightning. He dashed across the room, tackling Kyle to the floor like a wrestler and pinning his arms to his sides. "YOU CAN'T LEEEEAVE MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" He whined loudly.

Kyle tried his best to pry off the Stan-asite. He found the strength to stand up, with Stan still attached. "You're such a drama queen."

Stan slid his body down further to the ground so that he was hugging Kyle's legs. "You are my super best friend Kyle, big nose and all."

Kyle tried desperately to rattle his best friend free. "I'm really not going-"

"I can't LIVE without you!" Stan cried.

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Oh brother."

Kyle kicked out his legs until Stan was forced to let go.

"KYLE!" Stan wailed, heartbroken, reattaching himself to his best friend's torso.

"Keep on going like this, and everyone's going to think you have a crush on me or something," Kyle informed him.

"I don't care! Just don't go!"

"Stan, it's not even really that far away!"

"Kyyyle," Stan started to sing ridiculously out of tune. "Oh my Kyle!"

"Stan, for the love of God," Kyle groaned, finding his voice was drowned out by the noise his friend made with his vocal chords. It sounded like a drowning adolescent muskrat that was going through a voice change. "Get off me!" he cried out impatiently.

"NEVERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!" Stan screamed at him. "I'll never let you gooooo," he started singing again. The boy was practically delirious.

"Fucking hell Stan, it's like a fucking ten minute distance!" Kyle yelled back, nearing his wit's end.

Stan's voice died down to a whimper. He calmly released Kyle's legs and stood up once more. He looked into Kyle's eyes. "I know, dude, but it's the other side of town. I'm not used to walking that way."

Kyle rolled his eyes again. "Let's just get back to packing, shall we?" He made his way over the bed and began folding a shirt.

Stan collected himself completely. "Sure." He mimicked Kyle's actions by folding a shirt as well. "I still think you should go with Pillowbiterstein," he added.

Kyle responded by throwing the shirt in his face.


End file.
